Control
by ranma8962
Summary: Control: to command, dominate, govern, rule, direct, master, restrain. But when does the Controller become the Controllee? Will probably be Rated R for premise later on. Chapter 10 added - sorry for the delay. Please review. Thanks.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I don't have permission to write this. Darn =

AN: For those of you who reviewed, thank you very much, but I had to remove this story and resubmit it because it was never showing up on the listing.

AN: This takes place after IOTH

* * *

**_3 months earlier - Lyle's Office  
_**  
Lyle looked at the five sweepers who were hunched over battered and bruised in various degrees. "What happened to you? I told you to take her when she was already in the Renewal Wing," he addressed them sharply.  
  
"We did," Willie carefully spoke. Easily half of his face swollen, his bottom lip cut so severely that even those simple words were enough to make it start to bleed again.  
  
"Well," Lyle placed his hands on his hips and sneered. "What happened, then?"  
  
"She did," Willie answered concisely.   
  
Lyle chuckled and took inventory of the five . . . "Wait, didn't I send six of you?"  
  
"Johnson," Stan's voice broke off to cough and wheeze before continuing. "Johnson didn't make it."  
  
Lyle arched an eyebrow and looked at Stan. The man was carefully holding his right arm to his side, protecting himself, and precariously balanced on his left leg so that he looked like he was going to topple over any second. The rest of the men didn't look to be in much better shape. Two of them were distinctly hunched over in a posture that bespoke of shattered genitals.  
  
"Good thing she was already in Renewal Wing then, what would have happened if you had had to transport her?" Lyle sneered, feeling the rising of a familiar lust when he thought of his twin in combat. She was just so . . . maginificent.  
  
_**2 ½ months ago - Sydney's Office**  
_  
"I don't believe it, and I'll tell you why," Broots mumbled.  
  
Sydney looked up from his paperwork and glanced at his worried friend and coworker. "What don't you believe?" he questioned before thinking. As soon as he said the words, he knew the answer and a resigned look settled on his face.  
  
"She's not 'reassigned,' that's what I don't believe, Sydney," Broots burst out in controlled anguish.  
  
Sydney refrained from sighing through long practice and his own personal belief that psychiatrists didn't sigh, it looked bad to their patients. "Broots, I know this has been hard on you . . ." he started.  
  
"No, it's not that," Broots waved a hand to stop Sydney's repeated calming attempts to help Broots accept the fact that Miss Parker had been transferred, rather abruptly he admitted - but this was the Centre, back to Corporate.  
  
"What I am talking about is that Mr. Lyle is much too happy, Mr. Raines is much too quiet and a lot of the sweepers look like someone has worked them over. Do I need to point out whom we know that could provoke such varied responses?" Broots insinuated with a sly look.  
  
Sydney started to repeat his familiar arguments when he stopped and thought about what Broots had pointed out. He had to admit he had felt disturbed by Parker's abrupt disappearance and the rather stilted email she had sent telling him that she had been pulled from the pursuit of Jarod and back to Security at Corporate. The email had lacked a certain . . . sarcasm and, he had rather expected a telephone call by now. Sydney had felt they had transcended being members of the same pursuit team and had morphed into a family unit, dysfunctional of course, but still a family.  
  
"I'm afraid I have to agree with you," Sydney acknowledged.   
  
Broots looked up sharply, surprised by Sydney's acquiescence without a lengthy argument.  
  
"It does strike me that Miss Parker would not leave . . . us so abruptly and without a parting shot of some kind," he chuckled at the thought and even Broots had to grin and nod.  
  
"Yeah, it would be the perfect Nyah, Nyah moment."  
  
"Perhaps a scan of any new projects . . ." Sydney trailed off.  
  
"I'm on it," Broots confirmed.  
  
_**2 ½ months ago Renewal Wing  
**_  
"How's it going?"  
  
"She's a feisty one, I'll say that for her," Dr. Cox replied with more than a little admiration in his tone.  
  
Lyle glared at him. "Just remember our goal, Doctor," he emphasized the title, gritting his teeth. No one gets to play with his sister, no one but him.  
  
Dr. Cox smiled his most serene smile and chuckled without humor. "No need for threats, Mr. Lyle, my admiration is purely professional. We both know that Miss Parker lacks the . . . accouterments that I require for any kind of nonprofessional interest."  
  
Lyle relaxed, remembering Dr. Cox's peculiar requirements. No, Miss Parker would never be a candidate for Dr. Cox's games. He rubbed his stub, half-hoping the experiment wouldn't succeed just so he could . . . but, no, not that. He had to stay positive. The Triumvirate seat was worth more than a few moments of pleasure, though he was sure Miss Parker could provide hours . . . Lyle cut off his thoughts, growing uncomfortable with restraint.  
  
"I called you down here because I thought you might want to watch the next mapping," Dr. Cox continued, either unaware of Lyle's thoughts or deliberately ignoring that awareness. He flicked the switch, lighting the room next door, the window linking the rooms revealed a sedated Miss Parker strapped to a table, clad in a shapeless hospital gown with an IV dripping slowly into her left arm and a bowl-like device positioned over her head. Another switch flicked and a partially colored map of a brain appeared on the screen in front of the two men.   
  
"Oh?" Lyle questioned. "What are you mapping today?"  
  
"Her pleasure centers," Dr. Cox said with a cold smile. "Particularly the hypothalamus."   
  
**_2 ½ months ago on the table  
_**  
Miss Parker floated on a sea of nothingness. The whispers in her head were warning her of many things but none of them made any sense. In fact, nothing made any sense. Not now. It was just too much trouble to try to figure out what was happening. She just floated along, humming a little ditty she had heard a long time ago. Someone had taught it to her when she was a child. How did it go? Oh yes, "Cree craw toads feet, geese walk barefoot."   
  
The buzzing in the room rose to an annoying level and just as Miss Parker was about to say something scathing, pleasure flowed over her like a wave of sensation. She arched against the straps, gasping as all of her senses were tantalized and pleased.  
  
**_2 ½ months ago Renewal Wing  
_**  
Dr. Cox's lips lifted in a genuine smile as another section of the brain map filled in with electronic color, throbbing. "She has an extraordinary ability to feel pleasure," he murmured, quite impressed. It was almost enough to consider changing his preferences, at least for a night.  
  
Lyle watched, fascinated, his eyes locked on his sister's almost comatose body reacting to unseen forces. Her skin flushed and glistening and even through the walls and double-pane glass he could hear her groans. She was magnificent.  
  
"It will," he had to pause and lick his suddenly dry lips. "It will work, then?"  
  
"Oh yes," Dr. Cox confirmed. "Better than we had thought."


	2. Control Two to One and a half months ag...

Disclaimer: Alas, I own nothing, so suing me would be a waste of time.

* * *

**_2 months ago  
_**  
Sydney and Broots stumbled into Sydney's office. Both of them were exhausted after yet another trip in search of Jarod.  
  
"Just what is Lyle doing to Angelo, anyway?" Broots asked, exhausted, flopping into a chair, concerned only with getting some rest. Good thing Debbie was at a friend's for part of her summer vacation or she would be getting quite a few miles on her Learner's Permit ferrying him back and forth. Broots seriously contemplated just curling up on Sydney's very comfortable couch and sleeping at the Centre.  
  
Sydney yawned, covering his open mouth with his palm discreetly. "I do not know," he admitted. "I've been unable to have any time alone with him. Lyle keeps him monitored night and day. I do know that poor Angelo is showing signs of growing agitation by having his movements so curtailed." Sydney rubbed his eyes and leant back in his chair. "At a guess, I would say, considering it is Lyle, threats. It is his speciality after all."  
  
"Hmm," Broots agreed, too tired to form a reply to Sydney's observation.  
  
Within minutes silence, interrupted only by soft snores, fell on the room.  
  
**_1 1/2 months ago_**  
  
Broots rubbed his aching back and rotated his neck in a circle to help loosen his tight muscles. For a brief moment Lyle wasn't commandeering his every moment with searches, database runs and physical runs all over the country and he finally had a chance to take a look at what his bot program had found regarding any new projects started within the last three months.  
  
He frowned at the screen and typed in another command. There was only one new project that couldn't easily be explained away: Control. He tightened his search, using the password that Jarod had slipped to him when they worked together chasing Damon and his nerve gas. He scratched his head, momentarily missing his hair, and looked at the information again: To command, dominate, govern, rule . . . Broots frowned. Why would someone feel it was necessary to explain a project with Roget's entry for Control? There was nothing else in the file and there were no more hits on his search.  
  
Sydney frowned as he listened to Broots' findings. "That is unusual," he agreed, pondering. Before he could delve any further into theories, his telephone rang. "Sydney," he replied after lifting the receiver to settle it against his ear.  
  
"Where is Miss Parker?" Jarod demanded, skipping polite pleasantries that Sydney was sure he had taught him.  
  
"Hello, Jarod. How are you? We just returned from Phoenix yesterday."  
  
"Hello Sydney. Where is Miss Parker? She's not answering her telephone or her cell. She's not in her office and it seems she is not checking her email either."  
  
"She's been transferred back to Corporate," Sydney stated the official explanation as Broots unenthusiastically attempted to trace the call. He went through the motions but knew nothing other than a game of around-the-world signal bouncing would result. Still, he had to do it, if only for the surveillance cameras.  
  
Sydney could hear the distinct sound of computer keys being tapped on the other end of the phone line as Jarod did not verbally react to his statement. A few moments of silence then, "No, she was not," Jarod stated with certainty and Sydney knew better than to doubt that somehow Jarod was able to confirm what they could only suspect.  
  
"That's what they told us," Sydney asserted, knowing Jarod would hear the concern in his voice.  
  
"Hmm," Jarod replied, his skepticism more than apparent in the sound.  
  
**_1 1/2 months ago  
_**  
Jarod stared at the email buried in his 'refuge' mailbox:  
  
Daughter trapped. Friend save. Bad man in 'Control.'  
  
He swallowed and picked up the phone to call Sydney.   
  
**_1 1/2 months ago - Sydney's office_**  
  
"Sydney," he answered his telephone, exhaustion more than evident in his tone.  
  
"Tell me about Control," Jarod stated quietly.  
  
"About having control or needing control?" Sydney hazarded, his brain too exhausted to understand Jarod's request.  
  
"Are you all right Sydney?" Jarod questioned, remembering the pace he has been leading his pursuit team on the last couple of months. He had to admit that Lyle was becoming very intrusive and annoying, much more than Miss Parker, even with all her caustic comments.  
  
"Just tired, Jarod," Sydney assured him. "We just returned from Seattle." He paused for a moment to contemplate how Lyle had raged the entire trip back, not allowing either himself or Broots to take a nap. "Now what was your question?"  
  
"Do you know of a project with the word control in it?" Jarod asked in a more civilized fashion.  
  
Sydney rubbed his face, drawing his hand down from his forehead to his chin. His mind swam. That word sounded familiar. Why? "Hmm," he replied sleepily. "Broots found a project named Control but there wasn't any information to be found. Why?"  
  
"Never mind. Get some sleep, Sydney. I . . ." Jarod stuttered to a halt, unable to voice the concern he felt and the sudden realization that Sydney was not a young man anymore. When had that happened? 


	3. Control One Month Ago to the Present

Disclaimer: Still doing this without permission

* * *

**_1 month ago - Renewal Wing_**  
  
Dr. Cox nursed his sore jaw, cradling it tenderly.  
  
"I see she's still got some spirit," Lyle remarked dryly, his eyes going to the window and feasting on the sight of his sister still strapped to the table.  
  
"Indeed," Dr. Cox's tone was even drier than Lyle's. "If I were a doctor who truly cared for his patient's welfare, I would advise her family to seek psychological counseling for her. She has a lot of pent-up hostility."  
  
Lyle scoffed, sounding remarkably like his sibling. "Considering her family tree and where she works, is that a real surprise?"  
  
Dr. Cox smiled but the pain forced him to quickly settle his face into a neutral expression. "Perhaps not," he agreed.  
  
"Other than the hostility, how is she doing?"  
  
"She is responding extremely well. So much so that part of me resents having to use Jarod's imagery, but," he hastened to stop Lyle's comment, "I have been doing so with success."  
  
"Well, I tell you what, Doc," Lyle jovially responded. "I'll let you watch the DSA of when Jarod figures it out. Should be rewarding."  
  
"Indeed."  
  
**_1 month ago - Sydney's Office  
_**  
"I'm sorry Sydney, I can't find anything else on Control," Broots admitted in a tone of defeat. His shoulders slumped even further forward as he contemplated his failure.  
  
"I'm sure you did your best, Broots. In fact, I know you did. Doesn't this rather confirm that Lyle is involved?"  
  
"How do you mean?"  
  
"Well, haven't you told me that he doesn't trust computers? That he never uses them unless he has to?"  
  
Broots brightened, sitting up straighter. "That's true," he agreed but then slumped again. "I suppose this means I'll have to go to his office?" he offered, timidly.  
  
Sydney smiled gently, knowing the courage it took for Broots to make the offer and proud of him for doing so. "I don't think that will be possible. Without Miss Parker here to tender her protection, we, you and I, have to walk a very thin line. Also, I believe you remarked that Mr. Lyle had recently increased the security around and in his office, did you not?"  
  
"True."  
  
"Maybe Jarod can figure out what is happening?"  
  
"If he ever gets a minute. I think he is spending most of his time anymore running, isn't he?"  
  
"Hmm, it does seem that Lyle has been leading us on quite a merry round of chasing, that's true."  
  
**_2 Weeks ago_**  
  
"Well, she's as ready as she is ever going to be. Even so, I'll have to set up a system of daily maintenance. She has a very high threshold for persuasion. In fact, I'd like to study her overdeveloped . . ."  
  
Lyle cut off the doctor's desires. "Not now, Doc. Maybe later."  
  
"Can you bring him in?"  
  
"Yes, I have a scenario in place waiting to be triggered. Just family oriented enough to lure Jarod into the trap. The really great thing is that it will be a real tragedy," Lyle gleefully explained. "Jarod will fall for it."  
  
**_Present day_**  
  
Jarod roused to the feeling of fingers on his neck. He shook his head trying to free it from the strained position it was in and in an attempt to both wake up and to dislodge those intrusive fingers. He heard a sharp 'click' from behind him and became aware that his throat was slightly constricted. As he breathed in to determine how constricted, he became cognizant of more details. Including the fact that he could clearly smell the expensive cologne that Lyle favored and that, while he could swallow, he was definitely wearing a collar. It also became apparent to his rapidly waking senses that he was flat against a cold surface with his arms and legs held at unnatural angles.  
  
With a sense of dread and resignation, Jarod opened his eyes. Lyle's sparkling blue eyes twinkled at him as Jarod instinctively reached for him and ended up rattling the chains pinning him to the wall. He recognized the all-too-familiar raspy, blowing sound of air being pressed downward to ventilate the Centre's sub-levels that was pervading his hearing. In fact, he glanced around, he probably recognized this particular cell. Lyle could be very predictable.  
  
"Ah, Prince Charming is awake at last," Lyle cackled.   
  
Jarod glared at him, refusing to respond. The last thing he could remember was running. Lyle, not Miss Parker, had been on his tail for several months, relentlessly pursuing him from pretend to pretend, coming closer and closer. While Lyle lacked the brilliance and deductive reasoning of his more attractive and worthy sibling, he did have one quality Miss Parker did not. Utter ruthlessness. Jarod had started to learn of Lyle's pursuit by reports of the torture of the innocents that he had left behind on his pretends. Apparently, Lyle did not believe in the term 'innocent bystander.' Also apparently, he was unconcerned about the publicity such activity would generate. Jarod could only wonder what had changed.  
  
"Now, now, wipe that sour look off your face," Lyle chided, grinning with way too much pleasure. It was all he could do to keep from rubbing his hands together in glee. "I've thought about your situation, Jarod. I want you to know that I've studied it," he paused to see what kind of response that innocuous statement would provoke.  
  
Jarod pulled away from him, flat against the wall, erasing all visual response from his face. As disgusting as Lyle was, he was not stupid.   
  
"See, I know why you ran, or," he paused to rub his chin and winked at Jarod. "At least part of why you ran. Oh, sure, you were appalled to discover how your work was being used, yada, yada, yada," Lyle dismissed the horror that Jarod had felt when he learned that information, casually. "But, part of it was our, or rather the Centre's, fault as well. You see, Jarod, they failed to appreciate that you were no longer a little boy but a man. They didn't make accommodations for a man's needs," Lyle leered. "From what I can tell, they kept two vital, extremely vital, basic needs from you," he paused to place a hand on Jarod's chin, making sure Jarod was looking at him. "They kept food and sex from you. Believe me," he emphasized with a toothy grin. "I know how important those things are."  
  
Jarod shuddered at the implication. 


	4. Now we get to the sex part

Disclaimer: Alas, I own nothing so it is a waste of time to sue.  
  
AN: From now on, everything should be in the present. Any exceptions will be noted.  
  
This chapter is for **QueenTrione** who has encouraged me through my abortive attempts to properly load this story. Thank you.

* * *

**_Sydney's Office_**  
  
"Sydney," Broots hissed, moving through the door with his usual caution.   
  
Sydney, who had been entering statistics concerning twins' reactions to food sensation, glanced up. "Come in Broots," he welcomed. The study had gone quite well.  
  
Broots did a poor job of sneaking toward him but finally managed to make it to Sydney's desk. "I found something," he whispered.  
  
Sydney cocked an eyebrow at his nervous coworker. "Something?" he prompted.  
  
Broots glanced around the office and lowered his voice even more. "A DSA on Project Control," he murmured. "I haven't seen it yet. It was hidden and I just found it. I know it has something to do with Miss Parker's disappearance," he rushed out before taking a deep breath. "Have you heard from Jarod lately?"  
  
Sydney frowned. "No, not lately. He wasn't able to find anything about Project Control as of the last time I spoke with him." He rolled his chair over a little and retrieved his Haliburton, placing it on the desk and popping the lid to reveal his DSA player. "Shall we take a look?"  
  
**_Jarod's cell  
_**  
"See," Lyle continued. "The food is not such a big thing. Hell, we just take you off the nutritional slop and let you eat at the employee's cafeteria, plenty of sugar there. I even had a refrigerator installed in your quarters so you could keep your sweets on hand 24/7," Lyle offered affably. "Of course, as always, there are conditions. First, you have to keep yourself in this fine, fine shape," Lyle explained as he ran a caressing hand across Jarod's taut stomach, lingeringly. "Yes, indeed," he murmured.  
  
Jarod sucked in his breath attempting to avoid Lyle's touch.  
  
Lyle grinned and left his hand on Jarod's stomach, flexing his fingers slightly. "Second, you have to have regular medical check ups and if you fall prey to High Blood Pressure or Diabetes or whatever, then you get to suffer with the rest of humanity and change your eating habits. It's only reasonable," Lyle explained as though he were pointing out employee benefits to a new hire.  
  
Jarod closed his eyes as he listened to Lyle so casually map out the terms of his imprisonment. If he was going back to his old quarters, then he would be able to escape without too much effort. He never unofficially left his 'good boy' quarters so it was possible they were not aware of that way out.  
  
"Now, a refrigerator is not the only new thing in your quarters. No, indeed. I told you that I have thought about your situation. Gone is that little cot you slept on. I had your quarters expanded and you now have a king-sized bed waiting for you." Lyle leaned closer, close enough that his breath touched Jarod's lips. "Now we get to the sex part."  
  
**_Sydney's Office_**  
  
Broots fumbled inserting the disk, but eventually the silver slice of life slipped into the player.   
  
Sydney keyed up the code and the two of them watched the flickering screen.  
  
"It's Miss Parker," Broots commented, not surprised, only dismayed. He tilted his head a little to the right. "What are they doing to her?"  
  
Sydney, whose head was also tilted to the right, frowned. "This isn't an official DSA," he stated. "Look at the camera angle. I wonder if you found someone's private memory stash? Where did you find it?"  
  
Broots glanced around guiltily. "It's okay, this is a copy, but I found it in the linen supply closet for the Renewal Wing. It was the only one in a manilla envelope titled 'Control - First Phase,'" Broots shared in a whisper.  
  
The two men watched for several moments longer as the screen showed a limp Miss Parker being laid out on an exam table and strapped down. Her right arm was extended and an IV was started by a nurse. A clear plastic half-moon-shaped instrument was centered over her head. Various probes appeared to be extending from it.  
  
"Stop it. I think I know what they are doing and if I'm right, then God help Miss Parker," Sydney intoned.  
  
**_Jarod's Cell  
_**  
"At first it seemed that we could find you someone rather easily. I mean, you seem to have a preference for redheads, right?" Lyle chuckled. "Believe me, I know about preferences," he assured Jarod jovially.  
  
"You're disgusting Lyle," Jarod spat out, appalled on many levels by Lyle, too many to even think of. All he knew was that this man could not possibly share DNA with Miss Parker. It just was not possible. It had to be another Centre lie.  
  
Lyle dug his neatly manicured fingernails into Jarod's stomach in retaliation for his remark. "Behave," he threatened as Jarod involuntarily winced.  
  
"Anyway, as I was saying. I thought a redhead or two, maybe an occasional blonde for variety. But, then inspiration struck. A bolt of lightning if you will. Who have you been sniffing after all these years? And she's right here, nice and handy, too." Lyle chuckled, a sound devoid of humor. 


	5. Poking Around

Disclaimer: My worldly goods have not increased, so suing would still only be an exercise in lawyer jawing.

AN: All you doctors and medical specialists out there, don't roll your eyes so far back in your head that you can see your thoughts at my . . . liberties. I claim no specific knowledge, just enough to get me in trouble.

* * *

**_Sydney's Office_**

Sydney had remained silent, only occasionally grunting when some thought struck him wrong. Broots could not remember ever seeing his friend so focused before. Admittedly he had not been present during Sydney's sessions with Jarod. Still, it was unnerving. If he didn't know better, he would think that Sydney had decided to treat the DSA like a video game with all the starting and stopping, slow-motion and change of angles. But, he did know better and that made it worse, in a way. Occasionally Sydney would make a note of something or pause the DSA to locate and thumb through one of his many medical texts before continuing his observation.

Broots fidgeted.

At long last, Sydney turned off the DSA and popped it out of the player. He idly fingered the silver disc and looked off into space, his face set in uncompromising lines. Unbeknownst to either of the men in the room, Sydney and Jarod both got the same intense, concentrated look in their eyes when contemplating something or someone unpleasant and the results needed to correct the situation.

"Well?" Broots finally asked, unable to handle the stress another minute.

Sydney shook himself free from his thoughts and cast an apologetic glance at Broots. "Sorry, I . . . ," he paused unwilling to go into detail concerning his thoughts. "It looks as though they are attempting to . . . ," he paused again, seeking the right word. "Reprogram Miss Parker," he concluded.

Broots frowned. "You mean brainwash?"

"In a way, but this is a much more sophisticated version of it. They have, if I am reading this DSA correctly, started mapping her brain to provide them with exact locations for sensory input and manipulation. Once they know exactly where, they can start to associate certain sensations and even memories with external stimuli."

"What?"

Sydney frowned, more at the information than at his friend's lack of understanding. "I would say they will be concentrating on her thalamus and hypothalamus, the pleasure centers, if you will, and the structures of the limbic system that surround them, to condition her for a specific response. It is a delicate procedure, for the pain centers are a mere fraction of an inch away. One slip and negative reinforcement will be the result."

"They are poking around in her brain?" Broots asked, appalled.

"Perhaps," Sydney shrugged, falling into the skin of a researcher. "I would think that would be too risky without a specialist on hand. They don't have to literally open her skull to 'poke' around though. They can use electromagnetic waves with pinpoint accuracy."

"Break it down into laymen's terms, Sydney, what are they doing to her?"

Sydney sat a little straighter in his chair and looked down at the DSA still clutched in his hand. He concentrated on the disc instead of looking at Broots. "They are using a combination of audio/visual stimulation . . ."

**_Raines' Office_**

". . . and electromagnetic current in combination with certain triggers have helped to place Miss Parker in a, shall we say, receptive mood, for psychological reconditioning," Dr. Cox concluded his verbal report to Mr. Raines.

A long moment of silence was broken by the hoarse inhalation of oxygen from a portable supply and then the perforated tones asking, "Three months? Why did it take so long?"

Dr. Cox suppressed a sigh at the obvious lack of comprehension on his superior's part. "Miss Parker is not a simple yokel," he pointed out. "She is a red file, with, if I may say so, an extreme anger problem. She was very resistant. In addition, she has unusual developments that seemed to cause problems. Physical problems. The pain center is a mere fiftieth of an inch away from pleasure, it is a very delicate difference and great care had to be taken to make sure that a tremble did not undo all the progress."

"Her inner sense," Mr. Raines breathed each word like it was his last.

"Pardon?" Dr. Cox, questioned, annoyed to have his explanation interrupted.

"Her inner sense. Miss Parker shares her mother's unique talent."

"Oh," Dr. Cox barely kept his skepticism out of his voice but inwardly he rolled his eyes. "Be that as it may, it has taken a while to break her to the point where the . . . reeducation could begin," he concluded, once again.

"But, she is ready?" Mr. Raines questioned, wetly, the words scraping up an artificially inflated throat.

"As ready as she will ever be," Dr. Cox confirmed, memory causing him to unconsciously stroke his jaw. "She will require daily maintenance, but that can easily be worked into his schedule."

"Very well, Doctor. I will expect only good progress reports from you."

**_Jarod's cell_**

"Of course," Lyle grinned. "I am jumping the gun here, promising you that which you've been chasing all these years. First, we need to return you to your quarters and let you get cleaned up for her." Lyle pulled out a syringe, popped the lid and held it up to the light to make sure there were no bubbles.

Jarod struggled against his chains. "Damn you, Lyle. Nothing will make me work for you bastards again."

Lyle poked the needle into Jarod's arm with casual disregard. "Don't say anything else," he shushed Jarod. "I'd hate for you to have to eat too many of your words." He cackled and emptied the syringe into Jarod's vein. "Nighty, night," he sang softly and walked away from his fuming captive.


	6. Reality?

Disclaimer: My attorney can beat up your attorney.

* * *

**_Jarod's Quarters_**  
  
Jarod slowly surfaced back to awareness, each sense gradually returning:  
  
First, his sense of touch, or being touched. Soft cool fingers brushed across his forehead, smoothing the furrows away. They moved down his cheek, soothing him. "Hmm," he murmured nuzzling his cheek against the hand comforting him.   
  
Second, his sense of hearing as he became aware of a gentle feminine voice, speaking to him softly. "Wake up Jarod. Come on sweetheart, wake up. You can't sleep your life away," she indulgently chided him. Jarod sighed, recognizing Miss Parker's voice, even if he didn't recognize the tone.  
  
Third, his sense of smell. Miss Parker's signature scent tickled his nose, complimenting the touch of her hand and her sweet voice. Another scent, that of something spicy and sweet, was in the background, waking his stomach up.  
  
Yes, this was the best dream ever. He sighed and curled into his pillow, not willing to wake up, not yet. A tenderhearted, soothing Miss Parker, concerned for him, was too much to give up without a fight.  
  
He rubbed his cheek against the silk-covered thigh next to him and murmured a protest against rising to reality.  
  
Her light laughter played about his ears. "You silly. Wake up. I've made spaghetti. I know you have to be hungry by now," she mock-scolded him.  
  
_Silk-covered thigh?_ Jarod's eyes popped up to encounter a playful pair of blue/grey eyes twinkling at him and a smile he hadn't seen since childhood gracing Miss Parker's face.  
  
"Finally," she teased him with a gentle pat on his cheek. She stood up, gently disengaging his arms still wrapped around her. "You must have had a hard day at the Sim Lab to be napping already." She walked away from his astonished sight and into what must be the newly revised kitchen area because he could hear pans clinking together and the scent of spicy spaghetti sauce got stronger as a lid was lifted and a spoon stirred. "Are you ready for dinner?" she asked, her voice a little louder to carry the added distance.  
  
"Sure," he responded automatically, sitting up to hold his head in his hands. _What the hell is happening?  
_  
**_Lyle's Office_**  
  
Lyle chuckled and settled comfortably into his chair, flicking a lock of hair out of his eyes as he watched the live feed. "And so it begins."  
  
**_Jarod's Quarters  
_**  
"Jarod?" Miss Parker returned to the bedroom. "Are you all right?" she asked, her voice full of concern. She brushed a hand across his forehead, checking for a fever.  
  
He leaned into her touch without thought. "I'm fine," he assured her, closing his eyes to savor the feeling of her being concerned for him. A secret dream he never shared with anyone. One he barely dared to admit to himself. Miss Parker concerned for him, caring for him.  
  
She sat down next to him on the bed. "Maybe you are too tired? I shouldn't have wakened you, I just knew you would have problems sleeping tonight if you took too long of a nap now," she explained, moving her hand down to rest on his arm.  
  
Jarod partially turned on the bed, looking closer at her, searching her eyes for some hint as to what was happening, what game she was playing, but she merely looked guilelessly back at him, only concern showed in her gaze.   
  
"No, I'm fine. Let's eat," he stalled, suddenly wanting to pretend that this was real, at least for a while. Just a little while. He was so tired of being alone. So alone. "It smells good," he stated as he stood and offered her his hand.   
  
Miss Parker smiled and accepted his hand, keeping her fingers twined through his as they walked to the kitchen/dining area. "I hope so, it's my specialty. I would hate to think that all the other times you ate it, you were just pretending," she teased.  
  
Jarod just smiled, part of him disturbed by her words, but the more dominate part embracing the idea that they were a couple and had been for a while.  
  
He glanced down at her, fully looking at her for the first time. It was still the breath-takingly beautiful Miss Parker of the short skirt, silk blouse, long legs and impossibly high heels. He frowned a little. "Where have you been today?" he asked.  
  
She looked at him, curious. "At work. Where else would I have been? Centre Security doesn't just happen you know."  
  
He nodded. "Sorry, I must still be asleep," he apologized. _So I, we, are still in the Centre.  
_  
"I guess so," she said light-heartedly and finally let go of his hand to walk over to the stove. "Would you fix the garlic bread?" she asked, busying herself with draining the boiling spaghetti. A bowl of tossed salad, two types of dressing, two plates with accompanying silverware and a container of freshly grated Parmesan Cheese was already laid out on the table.  
  
Jarod looked around, lost in what was supposed to be his own kitchen. He started opening and closing drawers looking for a bread knife, finding it and spotting the French loaf already laid out. He opened the refrigerator surprised to see several types of sodas and a covered chocolate cake surrounded by condiments and further salad makings. After removing the butter dish and the garlic shaker, he closed the refrigerator door still shocked by his discoveries and her apparent acceptance of it all. On a whim, he opened the freezer door and stood looking at three types of ice cream until she closed the door. "No dessert until after dinner," she told him firmly, her tone one of repetition. 


	7. June Cleaver?

Disclaimer: Lawyers are overpaid anyway, so don't sue and provide them with work  
  
AN: Isn't Lyle wonderfully slimy? Got to love him!

* * *

**_Jarod's Quarters_**   
  
Jarod stood looking down at Miss Parker's sleeping form. The night had been . . . surreal. Yes, surreal was a good description. Never in his wildest pretends had he ever imagined sitting down to dinner with Miss Parker and listening to her casually chitchat about her day in Centre Security. It had boggled his mind. And then, they had cleaned up after dinner, sharing the chores as though they had done it a hundred times, with her touching him, oh so casually, as though she had a right to do so. It had unnerved him enough so that she had once again checked him for a fever due to his apparent open-jawed bewildered look.  
  
It had taken some really fancy word working on his part to convince her that he did not need to go to 'Medical.'  
  
Definitely surreal.   
  
For a while, he had bought into it. Pretended. And . . . enjoyed it, he was ashamed to admit. Being in the same room with Miss Parker had always given him a visceral thrill, but to be in such a situation with her, so relaxed and not trying to kill him or take him back to . . . to, well, where he was actually. Still . . .   
  
He couldn't do it. He couldn't stay in this pretend, no matter how . . . good it felt.  
  
That didn't mean he wasn't tempted. He was human. He was tempted. Oh, was he enticed. He was . . . male, after all. When Miss Parker had casually handed him the bottom half of a pair of pajamas and thrown the top half on the bed for her own wear, he had been tempted. So very tempted. And when she had started to undress, he hadn't watched, but, oh how he had wanted to. Memories of Ocee's place had haunted his dreams for longer than he cared to admit. Having to force himself to turn his back on her changing form had been akin to the feeling he usually got when he realized that Miss Parker was close on his trail. Looking out the window or over his shoulder and seeing her, with the adrenaline pumping through him and realizing that once again, he was free, that kind of . . . rush, like skydiving, piloting a jet, driving a race car, it was pure sensation.  
  
He watched as she rolled over, reaching to his side of the bed.  
  
And then, the real struggle had begun with five simple words. "Aren't you coming to bed?"  
  
Her voice, a siren's call and he a hapless sailor. The gentle pat of the spot on the bed next to her, the covers already pulled down. Those tempting words, those tantalizing words, those damning words.  
  
Jarod clenched his hands together, biting his short nails into his palms to distract his thoughts.   
  
It was looking into her eyes, those same eyes that beckoned him, encouraged him, lured him, looking into those curiously vacant eyes had brought it all home to him.  
  
She would hate knowing this happened.

**_Lyle's Office_**  
  
Lyle swore and placed his half-eaten bag of popcorn down on his desk with a plop. _What was wrong with this guy? Here the woman of his dreams was offering herself up to him and what did he do? He turned her down. Idiot!  
_  
Not that Jarod, **"Mr. Sensitive,"** had just stated, 'No, thanks,' or even 'Not tonight, I have a headache.' Oh, no, nothing that crude. Instead, he had fabricated some little tale, even as he climbed into bed, laying on the top sheet to avoid contact with her, about how tired he still felt due to his activities in the Sim Lab and as soon as she had drifted off, he popped out of the bed like a jack-in-a-box.  
  
Lyle rolled his eyes in disgust. _There's my evening shot to hell!  
_

**_Jarod's Quarters  
_**  
While Jarod maintained a safe distance from the Lorelei known at Miss Parker and her oh so alluring bed, Miss Parker, in her innocence, dreamt. She dreamt disturbing dreams full of syringes and bright lights. Dreams of Jarod, shooting at him, chasing him, talking on the telephone with him and pitying him. Dreams of a little girl, alone and afraid and Jarod, a little boy, alone and afraid, each offering what comfort they could. Dreams of her mother, telling her to wake up. Dreams of her disgusting brother and his sadistic doctor, Dr. Cox, standing at her bedside. Dreams that felt more like memories than dreams.  
  
She slept through the phone in the suite ringing, but, Jarod didn't. He answered on the first ring, casting a glance at the bed to confirm she was not disturbed. "What?"  
  
Lyle chuckled. "One day with her and you've already picked up her bad habits?" he taunted. "What's going on, Jarod? She too June Cleaver for you? We can adjust that, you know," Lyle offered. "In fact, we can make her anything you desire. You want a real tramp, just say the word."  
  
Jarod clenched his jaw. His hand shook, almost crushing the receiver.   
  
"You just remember that tomorrow when you are testing with Sydney. We can do anything we want with her," Lyle unsubtly threatened. 


	8. Brooding

Disclaimer: It's still illegal.  
  
AN: Um, based on a comment I feel like I should clarify that this is my second Pretender fanfiction, but I have, however, written fanfiction for La Femme Nikita, (I run a fanfiction archive for LFN) so this isn't only my second attempt at fanfiction. Just wanted to clear that up=  
  
Thank you for your comments and reviews. And thanks to **Leochick** for nominating "For A Genuis" in the Pretender FanFiction Awards ::blush:: =

* * *

**_Jarod's Suite_**

Jarod spent the rest of the night pacing, watching Miss Parker and thinking.   
  
He spent his pacing time noting the various surveillance devices and planning on disabling them. He had known, of course, that Lyle would be monitoring him . . . them, even without the confirming telephone call.  
  
Jarod looked again at Miss Parker, unwillingly intrigued. He had tried to sim her reactions in the past but had never succeeded.   
  
Maybe he was too close to her.   
  
Maybe it was because she was still a mystery to him. Didn't Sydney tell him that if he were lucky women would always be a mystery?   
  
Maybe it was because her legs were so long and luscious.   
  
Jarod swallowed a groan and closed his eyes to the sight of Miss Parker's left leg slipping out from under the sheet. He felt as though the image of her peach painted toenails was burned into his brain.   
  
He sat down and shifted in his chair, aware, again, of the tightness in his loins. Being with her was a delightful agony.   
  
He forced his mind back to the problem. Mainly, what was he going to do about this?   
  
He could still escape. There were many ways out of the Centre, he literally had his pick, but he couldn't leave her behind, not like this. Maybe he couldn't leave her behind at all anymore.   
  
Lyle had a moment of brilliance, one that Jarod was surprised hadn't occurred to the others by now, but then maybe Mr. Parker had put a stop to such thoughts before. How much protection did Miss Parker lose when her 'father' jumped out of that plane?  
  
What to do? Obviously, he had to leave before they tried to get him back into Sim mode. He didn't doubt that they would have to run tests first, to find out what his 'contamination' by being outside had done to him, but that was only a stopgap. Still it gave him some time, some time to think.

**_Lyle's Office_**

Lyle shifted in his leather chair, bored. Jarod was turning out to be a real stick-in-the-mud. He scratched his chin and sighed. He supposed he shouldn't be too surprised after all. Wonderboy, as his sarcastic sibling had dubbed the Pretender, was so very conscious about other people's rights.   
  
Lyle squirmed again, so much for executive comfort he thought sourly. He watched Jarod pace around the room and for the first time since his twisted little brain conceived this equally twisted scenario he experienced a moment of doubt. Had he underestimated the fact that Jarod was male? That he would have enough scruples to not be tempted? Tempted by the women he has loved all these years with the tenacity of a childhood ideal? Lyle tried to consider this point of view, that the object of his desire, his need, was a person on her own, granted unalienable rights, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't see it. They were all objects, just a means to an end. A form of pleasure, an exercise in delay and control. Lyle shrugged. It just wasn't possible. Jarod obviously needs time with his beauty to break down his petty moral reservations. Maybe some tweaking to the program? 

**_Sydney's Home_**

Sydney brooded. Sydney fretted. Sydney worried. Not that you could tell from looking at him. Outwardly, he appeared the same unflappable, unruffled, slightly detached observer of others as always. But inside, inside he almost seethed with impatience and anxiety. He knew that something terrible had happened and quite recently too. Miss Parker's supposed transfer, Lyle's almost euphoric mood and Jarod's continued silence were all connected and he hated to think how. This being the Centre the possibilities for the twisted associations were limited only by the basest of imaginations. He felt a flutter in his heart as he thought of Jarod and/or Miss Parker at Lyle's mercy. At the moment he felt no shame for worrying more for Miss Parker than Jarod. For Lyle's capacity to cause irreparable damage to Miss Parker was much higher than what he would do to Jarod. It was never spoken of, of course, but Lyle's obscene preoccupation with his twin was something . . . unthinkable. If he were to somehow, in some way, have Miss Parker at his mercy . . . Sydney shuddered to think of the horrors that Lyle would gleefully inflict on Miss Parker. He had to find Jarod.


	9. Morning Kiss

Disclaimer: As always such activity is considered illegal by selfish ones =

BTW: I finally saw "Net Worth" the other night -- Woo Hoo, he is sooooo cute =

* * *

**_Centre Hallway_**

Miss Parker absently rubbed a fingertip across her lips as she didn't listen to Lyle blather on next to her. They were heading down to Medical to check on a reported security breach before she went into her office. Her head had been feeling muzzy lately and so it was even easier than normal to ignore the one-thumbed wonder. Besides, she had more important things on her mind. Things like how it felt to kiss Jarod. And why, curiously, it felt like this morning's kiss was the first one in a long, long time. The irritating whine that was Lyle's voice ceased and she could see his expectant expression from the corner of her eye. _What had he said?_ She took a stab. "I don't know Lyle, I think you need to research that some more," she commented, easily falling into her slightly sarcastic tone. From the disappointed but not bewildered look on Lyle's face, she must have responded appropriately. She must remember to have Broots pull up the surveillance on the hallway and find out what Lyle was proposing.  
  
She, once again, touched her lips, her attention returning to infinitely more important things as she thought back to earlier this morning.  
  
**_Jarod's/Miss Parker's Quarters - Breakfast  
_**  
Jarod glared and Lyle smirked.  
  
Battle lines were drawn, territory divided and marked.  
  
The borders, a bottle of ketchup, the salt and pepper duo and the napkin holder.  
  
Jarod had been appalled when Lyle had shown up at the door to his . . . their quarters.  
  
For breakfast.  
  
As if it happened all the time.  
  
Both men had treaded lightly in front of Miss Parker, Lyle behaved, concerned that her programming was too delicate to take an outright confrontation between Jarod and himself leading to, no doubt, airing of dirty linen that Miss Parker didn't need to be reminded of and Jarod behaved, still too unsure of her mental stability and afraid she was teetering on the edge of an emotional breakdown.  
  
So Jarod glared and Lyle smirked and they both smiled whenever she turned to face them.  
  
It was during her flipping blueberry pancakes for Jarod, who had to admit a dazed astonishment at her cooking skills, that the unmentionable happened. The two men were faced off at the table, both seething with different emotions, Jarod with anger and Lyle with sadistic glee, when Miss Parker made an innocent comment that cemented all of Jarod's resolve.  
  
"Have you heard from Momma or Daddy, Lyle? Are they still having fun on their second honeymoon?"  
  
Jarod had reeled from that statement, the horror of the manipulation almost unseating him and he sent such a look of disgusted hostility that even Lyle flinched.  
  
"Yeah, Sis, they are still enjoying the cruise," Lyle had commented with a jovial voice and a glance of wary caution at Jarod.  
  
"Parker, can I speak with you for a moment?" Jarod asked, tilting his head, dismissing Lyle.

========

"I'll wait outside," Lyle volunteered. "Don't be long," he had cautioned Miss Parker.  
  
Jarod had waited for Lyle to leave and then had maneuvered Miss Parker over to a corner in the room between the bathroom and the living area. He had worked out the camera angles during his sleepless night and knew if he stood with his back to the living area, the only thing the camera would record would be part of his shoulder. "Listen, how about you come to the Sim Lab with me today?" he suggested, dropping his tone so that his words would not be clearly recorded.  
  
"Why?" she looked surprised. "Has there been a security breach in the Sim Lab?" she asked with a frown.  
  
Jarod was tempted but knew that without preparation he couldn't really lie about it. "No. I just want your company," he stalled. He tried to ignore the soft fragrance of her perfume, the softer scent of her and the feeling of her semi-pressed against him.  
  
She smiled at him. "Hmm," she purred. "Maybe you won't be so tired tonight?" she offered, stroking a hand down his face.  
  
He unconsciously leaned his cheek into her palm, his eyes closing as a flutter of wanting beat in his chest. "You won't come?" he tried again.  
  
She shook her head, regretfully. "I can't. I have meetings scheduled all day." She tilted her mouth to press a kiss on his lips, a move he diverted by tilting his head up to kiss her on the tip of her nose, causing her lips to brush his chin.  
  
Jarod fought his panic at the thought of Miss Parker in Lyle's presence all day but knew that, for the moment, he could do nothing else. He was now more determined than ever that he had to take Miss Parker with him when he left. That Lyle would lie to her about her parents was beyond reprehensible,  
beyond cruel.  
  
Miss Parker took advantage of Jarod's distraction, his highly vaunted cerebral cortex already working on the day's Sim and wrapped her hand around his neck, pulling his mouth to hers for the kiss she had been craving since last night. She had learned over time that sometimes you just had to grab hold of Jarod and show him what you wanted or just take it. 


	10. Tick Tock Tick Tock

Flick, flick, flick.  
  
Jarod walked down the hallway, escorted, followed, by two Sweepers who were keeping their eyes on him at all times, their hands hovering over their weapons in obvious anxiety. It was almost amusing. Almost.  
  
Flick, flick, flick.  
  
He played with the collar that Lyle had fastened around his neck the day before. He had spent approximately two minutes, during his sleepless night, examining it. It was a typical Lyle production, full of bluster and without substance. Jarod figured a paperclip and a mirror and the collar would be history. There were always paperclips to be found in the Centre. He glanced at his feet as the little coils of silver winked at him from the baseboards.  
  
It surprised him that no one had thought to put him through the trouble of removing a tracking chip yet, but he wasn't going to be the one to bring it up.  
  
Flick, flick, flick.

* * *

Click, click, click.  
  
"Hi Jarod, I'm Dr. George, I'll be taking care of you for a while," the elderly man in the ubiquitous white coat greeted Jarod.  
  
"Why? Where is Sydney?" Jarod asked, feeling a sick sense of deja vu.  
  
"Sydney is . . . unavailable," Dr. George replied uncomfortably. He fidgeted with his pen, clicking it and unclicking it several times in succession.  
  
Click, click, click.  
  
"What do you mean unavailable?" Jarod questioned, his nausea increasing. Had they done something to Sydney? He felt his world tilt and staggered a little, bracing his legs apart to help keep his balance.  
  
"I don't know what it means," Dr. George peered at him curiously. "Are you all right?" he asked, making a note of Jarod's reaction.  
  
The Pretender frowned, noting the action and took a closer look at Dr. George. The man had the typical abstract expression in his eyes, the same expression an Etymologist has as he peers into the microscope.  
  
"What are you supposed to be doing with me?" Jarod asked warily.  
  
Click, click, click.

* * *

Tic, tic, tic.  
  
The steady tempo of Miss Parker's high heels echoed throughout the hallway, Lyle's soft scuffing accompaniment all but lost to his dominant sister's presence.  
  
"What is this security leak?" she asked briskly, striding toward the Renewal Wing.  
  
Lyle sighed, almost missing the old days when it would automatically be assumed that Jarod was up to something whenever anything went wrong at the Centre.  
  
Tic, tic, tic.  
  
Angelo tugged on his sideburn and rocked slowly back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Lyle was leaving him alone, but in a way he regretted it. Now that he was not trying to empath where Jarod was or attempting to escape from Willie and Lyle's pet sweepers, he had time to think. Too much time and too much thinking. He could sense Daughter. She was far away, but here. He watched her stride along past his duct, but she was far away, further away than just grating.  
  
Tic, tic, tic.

* * *

Clickety-click, clickety-click, clickety-click  
  
Broots hunched over his keyboard, his fingers flying as he searched the Centre surveillance files. Something had to be happening here, to her. He paused. His fingers mid-clickety. Is this when he admitted to himself that despite all the help Jarod had rendered him in the past and all the abuse Miss Parker had heaped on him, he was more concerned for her than Jarod? He stopped, his gaze unfocused as he contemplated the reality of the situation.  
  
Clickety-click, clickety-click, clickety-click  
  
"This is Sydney."  
  
The sound of someone breathing echoed eerily through the telephone line.  
  
"Jarod? Jarod is that you?" Sydney questioned, his absorption on twin reactions gone, replaced by anxiety.  
  
"No," a male voice whispered, indistinct and quiet, too quiet. A throat discreetly cleared. "This is Ethan, do you remember me?" 


End file.
